Shifting Sands
by Daniel Lazerus
Summary: Hiroki and Nowaki have been together for twelve years and are about to embark on their first long vacation together. As the events of the trip unfold, it will reveal to both what things have changed in their relationship and what still remains the same. Will their time away strengthen their bond or show they've been drifting apart? NEW CHAPTER
1. Motorcycle

**Shifting Sands**

**Chapter One**

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Nowaki eased his way out of traffic and gratefully pulled into a lane leading off onto a quieter felt his spirits rise as soon as the apartment building appeared through the slightly smoky glaze of his helmet's visor.

Trying not to speed too much, he opened the throttle and felt the power of the motorcycle's engine purr between his legs. A half-smile crooked his mouth as he thought about something or, more aptly, someone, he'd also like to feel pulsing between his lean thighs.

As he pulled into the apartment building's underground lot Nowaki tried to push his wanton thoughts aside.

Hiro-san had been tense and agitated lately (more so than usual) and the result of this was that they had not been intimate for weeks.

Knowing when to advance with his professor and when to abstain was a complicated choreography that had taken Nowaki years to master. He had been trying to give Hiro-san some space, but he was also growing increasingly aware that his own need for physical contact was reaching its limits.

Nowaki exhaled a soft breath of frustration that shifted into relief as he moved further into the dim lot, relishing the slightly cooler air the subterranean garage offered.

It was summer and Tokyo was sweltering.

A bead of sweat trickled down the side of his face as if to underscore this. Before he lifted his hand to wipe the wayward drop that now hung precariously from his jawline, Nowaki reached over and pushed a buttoned control that hung from the key in his bike's ignition.

Ahead of him in the midst of a bank of small enclosed garages tucked back against the far wall, a door quietly slid open.

The small smile that still occupied Nowaki's lips bloomed into sudden fullness.

He'd waited months for one of these small-doored stalls to become available before purchasing his motorcycle. It was an added fee, but now that he was a full-fledged surgeon he could afford it easily. Along with the mortgage on his and Hiro-san's apartment.

Nowaki cut the power to his bike and coasted into the tiny garage.

Besides, it was worth it to protect his new ride.

Dropping the kickstand, he dismounted gracefully, his long legs making the process look effortless.

Undoing the chin strap, he pulled the helmet off and wiped his sweaty forehead with his forearm before setting the black hood on the seat of the bike. He knew better than to bring the helmet upstairs with him and chance Hiro-san seeing it. The motorcycle had been a sore spot between them.

The grin on Nowaki's face dimmed slightly.

He had suggested that they get a car. But Hiro-san had adamantly refused, saying it was ecologically irresponsible and that Tokyo's transit systems were more than adequate.

In truth, however, Nowaki thought it had maybe a bit more to do with the older man's pride: not knowing how to drive and not liking the notion of being chauffeured around.

Still, Nowaki had decided he needed some form of alternate transportation.

Being on call as he often was, there were times when an emergency meant he had to get to the clinic immediately. Working around the schedule of buses and trains cost precious minutes.

When he had first proposed the idea of the motorcycle as an alternative to a car, Hiro-san had protested no less vehemently. Nowaki, however, had made his decision.

Seeing this, after his initial outburst, Hiroki had remained silent on the matter and stood stoically by, watching as Nowaki had moved forward with his plans.

Hiroki had, however, begun not-so-subtly leaving out pages of statistics on motorcycle fatalities and news stories about recent bike accidents he'd printed off the net. He left them in places where Nowaki was sure to find them.

Regardless of this, Nowaki had purchased a motorcycle anyway.

_I'm a man of almost thirty years now, after all, and not an easily awed teenager any more. _

Considering this, Nowaki stepped back and admired his steel steed.

He'd had the Yamaha now for three months but he was still filled with a certain quiet pride every time he saw it. The polished bright blue paint and gleaming chrome of the FZ-1 shone under the pale light of its private quarters.

While the motorcycle might not have been the most expensive model, it was a far cry from the raggedy scooters he had spent so much of his youth on, making deliveries or running errands for his various jobs. And there was no argument the bike was good looking.

_A little like sex on wheels,_ Nowaki thought.

Unable to resist, his mind drifted to the only thing he found more arousing: his Hiro-san.

Despite the contention over the motorcycle or perhaps because of it, Nowaki's favorite fantasy of late popped up unbidden: Hiro-san, naked, bent over the seat of the FZ-1.

He could too easily imagine his lover's taut arms outstretched, scholarly hands white-knuckled, gripping the handlebars. Nowaki pictured his lover's muscled shoulders beneath him as he rode both the bike and the man.

While he knew that such a fantasy would never occur, the sheer mechanics of it impossible, he could still easily envision the much more realistic possibility of taking Hiro-san here in the privacy of the garage.

Nowaki had a sudden flash and saw Hiro-san, back bowed, lean forearms resting on the slick black leather saddle, offering up his glorious ass.

Then he imagined taking his fiery partner yet another way.

Lifting Hiro-san up off the ground, Hiro-san's muscular legs wrapped around his hips as he fucked him up against one of the narrow walls.

Nowaki could almost smell the scent of their sex mingled amidst the heavier odors of oil and exhaust. His ears tickled with the imagined sounds growling up from Hiro-san's throat and echoing off the concrete walls as he reached the pinnacle of his ecstasy.

The sharp honk of a car's horn off in the distance of the garage broke Nowaki from his reverie.

He ran his fingers through his thick, damp hair and sighed.

His other hand drifted unconsciously to the front of his jeans as he adjusted the denim to ease the hard ache now trapped there.

Nowaki stood quietly a few minutes and willed his arousal to subside, knowing that he must keep his desire in check… at least a little longer.

He clicked off the light and exited his bike's stall, watching as the electric door dropped down. Once he was sure that the Yamaha was secured, Nowaki moved over to the stairs and began the ascent to his seventh floor apartment.

Nowaki could have easily taken the elevator, but the stairs were good exercise and the climb also offered him a small extra space in his hectic day for contemplation.

It had been two years since he had finished his residency and left the hospital. Now he was a surgeon working at a clinic that specialized in pediatric care.

It had been hard to leave the hospital, but the promise for advancement was much higher at the clinic and though he had only been there a short time, he had already earned an excellent reputation and was well respected, even by some of the senior surgical staff.

Nowaki supposed that the transfer might have been a harder transition to make if Tsumori-senpai hadn't decided to make the move to the clinic as well, not long after he had left.

Despite his sometimes disreputable ways, Tsumori was a good doctor and Nowaki had long enjoyed their brotherly rapport.

Nowaki counted each level as he climbed the flights to his floor. With every riser, he consciously sought to leave some part of his stressful, busy day behind him.

He would lay down a child's case with each step, promising to pick it up on his way back down the next morning. Nowaki worked hard to attain a certain serenity, to have his mind cleared so that when he arrived at the apartment he would be able to be fully present for the precious little time he had with Hiro-san.

The summer heat and humidity ensured that by the time he reached his floor the thin tee-shirt he'd donned before leaving the clinic clung even more damply to his muscular frame. Nowaki shook his head.

_Such weather could make anyone irritable… although some more than others it seems. _

He hoped that the change in climate on the trip he and Hiro-san would soon be taking might serve to improve his partner's mood.

Unless it was he and not the weather that was causing Hiro-san's lately increased shortness.

A long-stilled fear suddenly quivered within Nowaki's broad chest.

_We have been together for twelve years now after all. What if Hiro-san has finally grown tired of me?_

Reaching the door to his shared apartment Nowaki stopped before going in. The brass nameplate beside the door had caught his attention, as it always did. He slowly extended a single long finger and reverently traced the engraved name that shone there.

"Kamijou"

The sudden tightness in his chest eased. He could hear Hiro-san's admonishing voice clearly in his head.

_Twelve years and you're still thinking stupid, Brat?_

Nowaki followed the lines of the characters again tenderly, soothed by the action.

"You're right, Hiro-san," he whispered.

After all, why would Hiro-san have gone to all the trouble he had to legally adopt him and share his family name with him if he wanted something else, or someone else?

The subtle tension that marred Nowaki's handsome face melted as he recalled Hiro-san's proposal to adopt him eighteen months ago.

His shoulders straightened as his heart filled with pride.

He recalled how bravely Hiro-san had presented his orphan lover to his parents, requesting they not object to his adoption of "the one I want to be with." Nor would He ever discount the respect Hiro-san had shown his own "father," Director Kusama, when he'd taken him back to the orphanage to ask the same.

"_Kamijou Nowaki_."

Though his colleagues at the clinic still knew him as Kusama, with the exception of Tsumori, it still pleased Nowaki to no end to think of himself in this way.

He was no longer an orphan: someone had claimed him. The one person he'd wanted to belong to more than anyone else in the world.

With this thought the last of Nowaki's uneasiness left him.

He took out his key and opened the apartment door. It no longer mattered what mood Hiro-san might be in, Nowaki was anxious to go inside and be reunited with his family.

* * *

**So here I am returning to FF. I have previously been writing under the pennames of Don't Preach and Cerberus Revised, but I thought I'd celebrate my shifts in consciousness with a new name and a new story. If you'd like to know more about my recent hiatus and the new name, I have a longer explanation on my profile page. **

**I will be re-uploading all my stories under the tag "Daniel Lazerus" and continuing to work on them, though not at the same previous pace of updating.**

**For those of you who are interested to know, this story will be along the lines of a novella and while there will be moments of conflict, I intend to keep it out of the rut of darkness and angst that I had fallen into prior to my "retreat."  
**

**I have missed this community immensely and am incredibly grateful to be back. I also owe a tremendous debt of gratitude for all the wonderful readers who have stood by me, offered their support, and patiently waited for my return. I extend a deep, humble and heartfelt thanks to you.  
**

**Hope you like this new piece and the forthcoming updates on my other tales.**

* * *

An additional cultural note for those of you who may not know this.

Adult adoption in Japan is not only legal, but it is a common practice (it is particularly common for adult males to be adopted into an already existing family) . The only requirements are that the adopter must be older, even if only by a matter of days, than the adoptee, and the petition of adoption cannot be contested by other family members.

It is actually very difficult, due to the structure of the Japanese society and its laws, for a child to be adopted even if the child has been placed in an orphanage. In order for a child to be legally adopted, the parents must relinquish their rights to the child. Many parents will not do this because, despite the fact they have turned the care of their child over to social services, the parents may still have the expectation that when the child is released from custody (usually between the ages of fourteen and sixteen) that the child will return to them to help take care of the family.

As Nowaki's parents were unknown, he could never be legally adopted as a child because the parental rights could not be relinquished. He could, however, be adopted as an adult.

Gay marriage is not sanctioned in Japan, unless the couple gets married abroad in a country where same sex marriage is legal and then returns to Japan. To get around this, while it is not extremely common, in some same sex relationships, one person will choose to adopt his/her partner as a means of formalizing their union and as a way to provide his/her partner with legal rights in domestic matters. So this is what I have had Hiroki do here in this story.


	2. Orchid

**Hey all,**

**Long time.**

**For those of you who have been wondering if I ever planned to write anything new again, here's your answer. Hope you enjoy it.**

* * *

**Shifting Sands**

**Chapter Two**

* * *

As Nowaki stepped through the door his senses were greeted with the familiar comforts of his home.

Despite the fact it was even possibly warmer in the apartment than it was outside, he smiled and breathed a little deeper.

It was Friday. He and Hiroki would be going out to dinner at Pandasan, so he knew there were no homey aromas of Hiroki's cooking to detect. But still the smell of old books, wood oil, fresh laundry, and their mixed individual scents soothed him.

Setting his keys in a dish that sat on the small table inside the entry, Nowaki once again admired the stately cobalt blue Edo period ikebana form also occupying the tabletop.

The vase had appeared at their door in an unmarked box a few days after his adoption had been finalized. Given the Senior Kamijou's love of ceramics and the discussion they'd had about his collection before Hiroki formally asked that Nowaki be accepted into the family, he and Hiro-san had known immediately who the box had come from.

It had been the senior Kamijou's way of letting them know that while he still didn't quite understand, he supported his son's decision and, though neither Nowaki nor Hiroki had openly acknowledged this to one another, both were immensely grateful for the token.

A single branch of orchids stood in the vase now; its convoluted stem tipped at an aesthetic angle.

With all his years of floral experience, Nowaki felt the sudden desire to caress its multi-hued petals and rotate the stem another few millimeters to the left. But he refrained, knowing that in all likelihood Hiro-san had spent considerable time moving the flower to this particular position for viewing.

He was pleased with his partner's attention to such detail even though only the two of them would see it.

Nowaki bent slightly to work off one of the boots he was wearing. The mid-calf length, black leather footgear was a concession to Hiro-san's concern for his safety on the Yamaha, but they were far more difficult to slip out of than his usual sneakers.

As his foot slid from the hot confines of the boot, Nowaki's ears picked up the low sounds of a piano, playing Nakamura Yuriko's "Long, Long Ago." The music was coming from a portable speaker sitting out on the dining room table attached to Hiroki's ipod.

Hiroki had played the composer's pieces often in his youth, finding Nakamura's works generally softened his restless edges. Nowaki knew this and recognized this piece as part of the mix set Hiro-san listened to whenever he was working on the organizational aspects of his book.

He was surprised by this obvious sign of his partner's presence. Since he was home early, he had expected Hiro-san to still be at the University gym, swimming laps.

Miyagi had suffered a mild heart attack earlier that year and since then, although the incident had been declared primarily the result of the older professor's chain-smoking habit, Hiroki had become rather fanatical about resuming the athletic habits of his youth.

Stilling a moment, Nowaki allowed the sweet notes whispered between piano and violin to wash over him. Lifting his eyes back to the ikebana, he thought the piece was the perfect accompaniment to the orchid.

Freed from his shoes now, Nowaki peeled off his socks and wiggled his toes. They were as delighted as he to be free for the moment.

Reveling in this feeling, Nowaki disregarded his house slippers. He moved barefooted down the hall to put his stockings in the hamper of the apartment's closet-sized laundry, carefully navigating the piles of books that covered the floor.

The floor had been relatively clean when he had left early that morning for the hospital, but Hiro-san had obviously gone into another book sorting flurry.

A sense of nostalgia gripped him. Nowaki's mind was suddenly awash in scenes of Hiroki's book-cluttered college apartment. The corners of his mouth quirked upwards. He remembered how palatial Hiro-san's place had struck him when he was eighteen compared to his own closet sized flat, even with all the books.

As the date for their trip to California drew nearer, Hiroki had become increasingly worried that the four boxes of books and supplies for his research he'd already sent ahead to the estate where they would be spending three weeks' vacation would not be enough.

Nowaki surmised that in his nervousness Hiro-san had been going through his library again, ensuring that there wasn't some critical text he'd forgotten.

_Hiro-san is so cute._

Entering the hall, Nowaki thought he might grab a fresh shirt from the bedroom, but as he neared the closed door he could hear Hiroki's muffled growl behind it. His brow rose.

_He must be on his cell. _

Rather than go in, he stepped quietly down polished wood floor to the laundry, not wanting to disturb Hiro-san's call.

He had recognized the tone of Hiroki's rough voice immediately, even through the door. There was only one person Hiro-san spoke to with that particular reverence: his father.

After placing his socks in the hamper, Nowaki checked the washing machine. Though he was tired from his taxing surgical schedule, he was not ready to be still. He pulled a load of newly laundered towels into a basket and headed out to the balcony to hang them, knowing that with the humidity as it was, it would take some time for them to get dry.

Out on the balcony a lazy breeze pressed warm lips his forehead.

_It __is__ hotter in the apartment than outside._

Peering over a line-draped towel and in through the apartment's open sliding glass doors, Nowaki noted the small fan set near their dining table; though not so close it would flutter the pages set in piles around Hiro-san's open laptop.

They had two fully functioning air-conditioning units in their apartment, one in the main room and a separate window unit in their bedroom. However, over the last few days on the news, Tokyo officials had been requesting that citizens try to minimize their use of air-conditioning if possible. The hot weather had put considerable strain on the city's utilities of late.

Nowaki knew that Hiroki, with his strong sense of civic responsibility, was keeping their usage to a minimum, despite how irritable the sweltering heat made him.

Dipping his head down Nowaki picked up another towel. He could hardly wait for them to get to their vacation destination in Monterey. He'd been tracking the weather on his tablet at work and had been delighted to see that things had been holding to around twenty degrees Celsius during the day.

His mind drifted to the undoubtedly cooler evenings and the idea of a chilled Hiro-san uttering the words that even after all these years never failed to thrill him.

"_Nowaki, I'm cold."_

Despite the heat, a delicious tremor shivered through Nowaki's lean frame. At the same time, however, a tiny sense of disquiet twisted in the pit of his stomach.

_Three weeks… in just a few days we have three weeks in each other's company without work. _

_In all of the years we've been together we've hardly had three whole days together, let alone three weeks. What if after all this time we find out that it was our distance from each other that has held us together?_

"I'm sure we'll be fine."

Nowaki mumbled this under his breath as he hung up the last towel, hoping to reassure himself with his words.

_I can't afford such negative thoughts. Life is a fleeting thing, time precious. Every day at the hospital shows me this._

_Just think, "three weeks…" _

_What an amazing treasure. _

_I have to cherish this… and cherish Hiro-san. Who knows when we might have such a chance again?_

Rallied by these thoughts, Nowaki picked up the now empty basket and stepped into the apartment.

He looked up just in time to see Hiro-san moving into the main room; his call obviously finished. Hiroki held an open book just below his chest, clasped in his smooth, long fingered hands, reading as he navigated the text-strewn floor on autopilot.

Nowaki felt his chest hitch: Hiroki had succumbed to the heat of the apartment.

He was barefoot too, his normally sharply creased dress slacks had been discarded and his lower half was clad in only a pair of loose cotton boxers with a tight plaid pattern in various shades of blue and grey. His upper torso sported one of his light, short-sleeved summer workshirts, but this hung open, unbuttoned and Hiroki's smooth torso shone creamily bare beneath this.

Hiroki stopped in the middle of the room. One of his hands moved and a finger caressed a line of characters as it followed his eyes over a particular passage. His brow thoughtfully furrowed.

As he stood he slipped one foot up on its ball. His slightly bent knee swung in a languid side to side motion: a graceful pendulum to his thoughts.

Seeing his partner like this, all doubts of how they would fare together during their vacation slipped from Nowaki's mind. He felt his heart beat faster at Hiro-san's unconscious sensuality.

The apartment suddenly felt even hotter and Nowaki's heated blood surged to his groin.

Hiroki started when he heard Nowaki clear his throat. He looked up from his book, his dark eyes filled with surprise.

Nowaki noted that Hiro-san's hair looked slightly damp and wondered if this was from the heat or if he had recently showered. He longed to step over and bury his nose in Hiroki's dark mane to find out, but instead he reluctantly stilled himself and waited.

Hiroki's raised foot flattened and his forehead took on a different crease.

"You're home early."

Hiroki kept his book open as he stepped towards the kitchen.

Nowaki tracked his partner's movement hungrily. He thought he had seen it, that particular flash in Hiro-san's eyes when he'd first looked up from his word world.

"Mmmmm, the Toshino procedure was not as complex as we feared it would be." Nowaki struggled to bite back his hope.

In the kitchen now, Hiroki set his book on the counter. He poured hot water from their electric kettle into a waiting ceramic mug.

"Why didn't you call out? I would have come to greet you."

Hiroki struggled to decide where to focus his attention: on his returned partner, his book, or his steeping tea. He decided to combine two of these and reluctantly leave off the third for a moment.

After giving a last longing glance at his book, he turned to look at Nowaki and nodded towards his steaming mug.

"Want a cup?"

Nowaki loved Hiro-san's traditional sensibilities, but preferred drinking something cold when it was so hot. He shook his head but used the question as an invitation to step into the kitchen and closer to Hiroki.

"No, thank you, Hiro-san."

Nowaki moved over to the refrigerator and pulled out a can of cold tea. He took a glass from the cupboard and used the automatic icemaker in the refrigerator door to fill it with crushed ice.

When he turned back around, Nowaki felt his chest constrict, realizing that in the time it had taken him to do this, Hiroki had pulled the strainer from his mug and moved back to his text.

Wanting to keep his partner's attention before he fell irretrievably back into his pages, Nowaki quickly tried to pick up their conversation prior to the offer of tea.

"Uh, I didn't call out because I didn't think you were home. Then I went to change my shirt, but it sounded like you were talking to someone in the bedroom, and I didn't want to disturb you, Hiro-san." Nowaki set his glass on the counter and opened his tea.

"Ummmm."

Nowaki exhaled in frustration at Hiroki's vague reply. One would think after twelve years and all the problems it caused, Hiroki would have known better by now than to try and converse while he was doing something else.

"So who were you talking to, Hiro-san?"

Nowaki poured his tea into his glass while simultaneously watching as the small part of the professor not yet completely immersed picked up on his questioning tone.

Hiroki looked up and over slowly. His brow creased anew seeing Nowaki's ice-filled glass on the counter.

Nowaki felt his lips pulled upwards at Hiroki's mild disapproval of his choice of drink.

"Eh?"

"You were talking to someone just before?" Nowaki reworded his question now that he knew Hiroki was paying closer attention, not wanting to seem too intrusive.

He sighed inwardly when Hiro-san turned back to his book before answering.

"Ah, yes. My father called again."

"And how is the president?"

Hiroki looked up more quickly this time and Nowaki saw the subtle flash in the man's eyes that let him know he was pressing farther than was prudent. However, the spark dimmed and once more Hiroki returned to his text.

"He's well. Although if he calls me with one more museum or dealer to visit on our trip, I'll hardly have time for my own research."

Now it was Nowaki's turn for a creased brow.

He knew that Hiro-san planned to work on his current research project while they were gone. He would have expected nothing less. He had known too that the Senior Kamijou had asked his son to make a few stops for him regarding some pieces he wanted to secure for Kamijou Corps corporate art collection.

_Still, this is meant to be our time together. _

Nowaki reached for his chilled glass and downed a big gulp of his tea, trying to dislodge the lump that had suddenly formed in his throat. He kept his hands wrapped around his drink and looked over the rim, watching Hiroki slip back into his book.

It meant a great deal to Hiro-san that the president had entrusted him with these errands. Though he didn't speak of it, Nowaki had come to understand that his partner held a cache of guilt for not going into the family business.

Doing this, securing these pieces, was a way that Hiroki could participate in the company in a manner that fit with his interests, and that allowed him to strengthen his renewed connection to his father.

_Despite what I want, I can't stand in the way of these things. Not when they mean so much to Hiro-san._

At the same time, the old doubts began to churn again in the pit of Nowaki's stomach.

_Or is Hiro-san accepting more tasks because he really doesn't want to be alone with me?_

Nowaki took another long swallow.

Hiroki was leaning against the counter now, hands braced against its edge as he scanned the dog-eared book lying open before him.

Nowaki watched one of Hiro-san's hands leave the edge of the counter and turn over a page. This same hand then slipped up and ran through Hiro-san's thick hair before rejoining its brother.

Setting his glass down, Nowaki took a step forward.

He'd been waiting patiently, hoping that their vacation would provide a congenial environment for connection. But now, knowing that their time together might be just as scarce as it presently was, Nowaki's need had suddenly become unbearable.

_I can't hold myself back any longer._

Nowaki slipped up behind Hiroki and pressed in.

Long arms wrapped around Hiroki from the back. Bending his head, Nowaki buried his nose in the damp hair at the nape of Hiroki's neck. Breathing in deeply, he could smell his partner's shampoo.

_I was right: Hiro-san showered not long ago_.

So promising.

"What the hell, Nowaki?" Hiroki's head shot up as he felt his partner's weight against him and his hips suddenly pressed against the counter.

Brushing his lips along the hot skin of Hiro-san's neck, Nowaki's mind was filled with images of his lover's lean frame glistening in the shower; sudded hands traveling over tight contours of muscle.

Nowaki pressed his hips further forward, grinding the front of his jeans against the thin fabric of Hiroki's boxers. Feeling the indentation between rounded cheeks, his filling cock pulsed.

Nowaki's lips lifted only enough from Hiroki's neck for the breath of his words to escape.

"Hiro-san is mine."

While this whole maneuver seemed to unfurl in slow motion for Nowaki, his embrace had in fact been an action executed within mere seconds.

Hiroki braced his hands against the edge and pushed back. "Come on, Nowaki. It's too hot!"

"I can fix that."

Nowaki's hands slipped under Hiroki's open shirt and palmed swim-sculpted pectorals.

"Fuck!"

Hiroki's drew his breath in with a gasp as Nowaki's ice-cooled hands folded over his flesh.

Nowaki felt his arousal increase as Hiroki's nipples immediately hardened beneath his hands. He moved his mouth up and his tea-cooled tongue traced an earlobe.

"I can make you warm or cold, Hiro-san. Just tell me what you want."

Hiroki pushed back again, harder this time.

"What I want, Dumb-ass, is to finish this chapter!"

One of Nowaki's large hands slipped off Hiroki's chest. He lifted his upper torso only enough for his hand to slip between them and catch the hem of Hiroki's shirt.

In a single deft move Nowaki drew the hand up and twisted.

It caught the whole of Hiroki's shirtback from collar to base. The twist pulled the shirt just off Hiroki's broad shoulders and drew his arms back, trapping them in their sleeves, making it impossible for him to push back again.

Nowaki thrust his hips forward as soon as Hiro-san was caught, re-pinning him against the counter.

His dick rejoiced at the resumed friction. It thrilled even more as Hiroki shifted, struggling against the restriction.

"Finishing the chapter wasn't one of the choices I gave you, Hiro-san." Nowaki's normally light voice was lust-heavy now.

"Idiot!" Hiroki snapped and bucked back, rebelling at the cool command in his lover's tone.

He stilled immediately however, when Nowaki's teeth took a gentle hold of his earlobe and at the same time, still-icy fingers pinched the rigid tip of his nipple.

Nowaki could feel his lover's whole body blush beneath him as the growl cocooned in Hiroki's throat suddenly hatched as a wonderfully wanton groan.

Releasing the earlobe he'd been softly worrying, Nowaki kissed down the length of Hiroki's neck. He nuzzled against it, moved down and pressed a sucking kiss to a shaky shoulder. He felt Hiro-san stiffen and then at last slump back into his chest as the tension left him.

Nowaki smiled into salty skin as he listened to Hiroki's ragged mounting breaths.

Hiro-san was his again.

* * *

**So if you're interested the piano piece is real, you can find it on youtube. The vase exists too, but FF won't let me post the link.**

**The next chapter will be very lemony. I'll try not to make you wait so long this time. And yes "X," I lack restraint. Heh.  
**

**Thank you for all the alerts and favorites, and of course, I love your reviews.**


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